


Afterthought

by DarkAlpha67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Altered Events, Can't believe that's actually a tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, Folklore, Insecure Derek Hale, Insecurity, Introspection, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Pre-Slash, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Scott McCall, alternative universe, supportive pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 12:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: Derek knew Stiles loved him. He knew that.He also knew Stiles would just about do anything to protect Scott.*Or: Derek believes Stiles loves Scott more than him.





	Afterthought

**Author's Note:**

> I always loved Stiles and Scott's relationships, but I hardly ever saw a fic where Scott and Stiles were closer even when Stiles and Derek were in a relationship. I started wondering how Derek would feel if he had to be in a relationship with someone who is borderline sacrificial when it comes to his best friend, so I came up with this. 
> 
> I hope you like it. It's been a while since I wrote anything, so don't judge too harshly.

He couldn’t remember the day it struck him, really.

Maybe it was because he’d known it all along.

How could he not?

The day he met them, he’d seen the bond clear as day. The smiles they shared, the personal space they seem to think they owned, together.

They were a pair.

Where there was one, the other as just a few steps away.

Scott and Stiles.

Stiles and Scott…

Derek knew they loved one another. He knew how fiercely loyal to each other they were.

He just didn’t think he’d ever fear that bond, hate the bond, even.

Because it lead to now, to where the walls were burning white, florescent lights harsh and baring. The bond caused this; resulted in the blood which caked his fingers and stains his nails. His shirt was matted in dirt, his stomach was a sickening knot of fear, pain, longing, sorry, anger, guilt and every hellish emotion he could think of.

And it all because of that stupid bond.

The bond between brothers.

Thinking back, it wondered how he ever thought this day was avoidable.

*

He recalled the day he could a glimpse of the magnitude of Stiles’ loyalty to Scott.

He’d gotten a call from Stiles, how the punk had gotten his number he never thought to ask, because all Stiles said was, “get the chains, Scott needs it.”

Barely a half hour later, Stiles’ broken blue Jeep came screeching to a halt outside the abandoned Railroad Depot where Derek had been camping.

“Help, help.” Stiles panted as he slipped out the car in a mess of flailing limps. In the blink of an eye, he had rounded the Jeep, and was ripping open the passenger side door.

Derek arrived just in time to watch as Scott fell onto Stiles, the other boy’s knees bending to absorb the impact and hold the weight. Stiles grunted, and a sick metallic scent wafted through the air.

“Shit, Derek.” It was said in a hiss.

Derek acted on instinct, moving around the two. He felt the rage burning off Scott, saw the random flashes of gold as the boy fought to not give into his wolf’s pain. Clawed fingers gripped his forearms, sinking into his flesh and Derek barely flinched.

“Stiles, chains. Move.” He said in fragmented phrases but Stiles understood (He always understood).

Together, they maneuvered Scott around, had his wrists and legs chained and spread at awkward angels to ensure he didn’t break free.

Stiles was panting, his chest wheezing as he sucked in gulps of air. It was clear he was seconds away from panicking, so Derek calmly extracted the boy, getting away from a growling and thrashing Scott. He was lost now, Derek could tell.

Scott barely noticed Stiles’ absence.

Pressing a hand gently to Stiles’ chest, Derek lifted Stiles’ shaking hand, pressing his palm center mass. “Focus on this. Feel this. There - Hey, look at me, eyes on me. Breathe.”

The words left his mouth without thought, repeating familiar phrases voiced by his mother to other members of their pack.

Bloodshot amber eyes met his and Derek nodded, taking in a deep breath, watching and waiting as Stiles mimicked the act. Stiles nodded and just as he inhaled, a hiss passed his lips.

“Oh, fuck. Shit, I forgot…” He trailed off, his other hand lifting to press against his side.

“What?” Derek’s brows furrowed as he moved to tug up Stiles’ torn shirt, hoodie and all. His teeth gritted together at the sight of four perfectly parted bleeding cuts which now marred smooth pale skin.

“Did Scott—“

Stiles cut him off. “He didn’t mean to.” His tone was defensive and his eyes, once frightened flashed to instant defiance. “We were trying to get into the car, he cut me trying to stay at the house. His mom was in there, so we had to get away—“

There was a crash from inside. The hand pressing against his chest vanished, his presence following and Derek turned involuntarily, eyes following after a sprinting Stiles.

A blink later and he was chasing after the boy, arms wrapping around his waist to stop him from getting too close to Scott.

“Fuck, let me go, Derek!” He pressed back against Derek’s hold to throw him off and had he been human, the move could have worked.

“No. He’ll hurt you.”

“Fuck you, no he won’t.”

The metal rod holding Scott bend as the wolf jerked toward Stiles. Derek’s hold tightened.

“Let me go. I won’t go closer.” Stiles ordered him, head snapping to the side to glare at Derek.

Hesitating for only a moment, the brunette used the split second to wiggling free, ripping his hood free from Derek’s hold when he snagged the material in a futile attempt to get the boy away.

Helpless but vigilant, Derek followed to remain close as Stiles said Scott’s name softly, moving to sit cross legged before the almost feral wolf.

“Scott, hey, it’s okay. I’m not leaving you. We’re gonna wait it out. Like we planned. Yep, fuck anyone who tries to change it.” Stiles said, nodding every so often to emphasize the phases he promised.

Hours later, a bruise blossomed Stiles’ cheek bone from where he fell when Scott had jerked toward him, canines sharp and aiming for flesh and Stiles had stumbled back, tripping over himself, before falling back, face colliding with the edge of one of the seats. The sun was slowly coming up, Scott was panting and wincing as Derek unchained him.

The second his arms were free, a body pushed him back, arms lifting and locking around Scott’s neck. The other wolf grunted at the force of his best friend’s embrace.

“Fuck, next time, Allison better fucking cancel her trip.” Stiles cursed into Scott’s neck.

Derek watched, chest tightening at the sight. Pain and longing for his sisters and brothers tore through him, so he snapped his eyes away, clearing his throat as he moved around to pick up the chains Stiles had brought.

“Here.” He grunted, grateful that that seemed to pull the pair off each other. Amber eyes, wide and glowing with relief looked up at him. A smile almost followed but Derek cut it off with a, “you better get that wound checked out.”

Lips fell and relief gave way for a broken look to take its place. “Yeah. Thanks for your help.”

Derek said nothing.

As he watched Stiles ease into the passenger side with Scott behind the wheel, his gaze fell on the human, so fragile from afar. He worried. He didn’t remember the last time he had someone to worry about, but as looked at Stiles’ smiling face as he said something to Scott, he felt the long-lost emotion encase his heart.

He wondered, sick to his stomach, how long Stiles would last in this dark and dangerous world.

And whether his final act would be protecting Scott McCall.

*

It wasn’t just Stiles who did stupid shit.

Scott acted on impulse for his best friend, too.

In the werewolf culture, though Derek hardly considered it his culture, when a human bonds with a wolf platonically, or even the wolf’s pack, he became something of an Emissary. Their humanity became the core and light which guided the wolf through its animinalistic nature.

Sure, the stories were over-exaggerated as years went by but Derek could see how it may have come to be as he watched Scott leap in front of an oncoming arrow which had been aiming at Stiles, fingers wrapping around the shaft, stopping the wolfsbane laced tip inches from his heart.

Derek took care of the hunter, but he knew what he saw.

When Allison’s angry voice rang through from outside the clinic, and Stiles kept hissing at Deaton to hurry up already, he wondered how long Scott and Stiles would last.

Sacrifice was heroic until one of them was left alone with the guilt of their best friend’s decision to trade their life for the other weighing them down into an ocean of sorrow.

“You should take some of those herbs, I gave you, Mr Stilinski.”

Derek’s attention snapped back to the Vet.

“I would but the spells are really hard to do.”

An acidic rock formed in the pit of Derek’s gut.

“If it were easy, everyone would be doing it, then there would no use for people like us.”

Stiles scoffed playfully. “You’re a Vet with way too much knowledge. I’m the one with the magick juice.”

“Which will fade or become anarchic if you do not tame and use it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Amber eyes rolled. A split lip lifted just as brown eyes locked with green orbs. “What?”

“You’re an Emissary?” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Deaton tensed up, eyes narrowing, but Derek paid him no mind, his attention fixed solely on Stiles.

“In training. I got what Deaton calls a Spark. I don’t really know a lot yet, because we’re a rare species but… yeah.” Dark brows pulled together, fingers twisted and reached for him. “Hey, you okay? You look a little—“

Finger tips brushed against his crossed arms and Derek jerked away, the erupted movement cutting Stiles off. A flash of hurt claimed the other boy’s face, and Derek instantly felt guilt.

There was a line, you see. And for the past two years of Derek weaving his way in and out of Scott’s still developing pack, Stiles had been toeing that line, brushing past it more frequently than before, getting bolder in his advances as he got close to the special number “18”.

Derek knew what was going on, and a part of him wanted it but that part cowered away when old fears and never-healed scars made itself know.

“I’m fine.” He practically growled out. Turning to Deaton, he removed Stiles from his line of sight. “Can we leave now?”

*

Their kiss was nothing special. But it occurred during a monumental event.

There had been another fight. Another monster creeping through the woods and streets of Beacon Hills, thirsty for the blood of everyone and everything. Lydia had figured out it was Penanggalan. Knowing what it was, was easy. What made the entire ordeal a clusterfuck was that they were twins.

Two women, identical in all but spirit; one driven and controlled by her nature, the other desperate for a resemblance of normalcy which she won’t ever get with a mass murdering twin sister.

It was Lydia who figured out how to kill Aida, and save Dalilah, but in the end it was Stiles who had to do it.

She’d said it would be an easy spell and with Dalilah’s help it would have been but it all went to shit the moment the twin sisters were in the same room together.

One look, and two souls between one.

Aida, stronger and more vicious than her sister, used their combined strength to overpower the entire pack. Aida had been seconds away from driving a clawed finger into Derek’s stomach when thorny vines wrapped around her neck. She was tugged back, green-black blood pouring down her neck.

Too injured to move for that moment, Derek watched helplessly as Stiles muttered foreign incantations, eyes appearing to glow an emerald green. It worked for a small moment, but at the sound of Scott’s pained howls as Dalilah cut down his chest from neck to abdomen, Stiles’ concentration broke. Aida flung herself at Stiles, crimson liquid painting his once white shirt.

Hot rage and fear claimed Derek in that instant. He blinked and found himself wrapping a thorn vine around the Penanggalan’s neck, gripping and twisted.

More hands joined his.

Emerald eyes flashed brighter than a thousand stars.

The vines in his hands burned and Derek let go, tugging Isaac and Erica away just as Aida burst into green flames.

Her screams echoed through the night, monstrous and human all the same and his stomach revolted at the sound.

It was over so fast, he thought he’d gone deaf for a second, then Scott’s voice rang out.

“Stiles!”

Eyes snapped over and Derek saw Stiles tip back as if weightless. He moved and his arms braced the weight, catching Stiles just in time. He lowered the brunet down onto the floor, eyes fixed on those blurry amber eyes, the last of the emerald spark fading.

“Stiles, hey, look at me, don’t pass out.”

“Ssshhee, iss… she gonn…”

Derek nodded desperately. “Yeah.”

“Awesom…”

Shoes pounded on the floor. Derek felt a hand brush his shoulder and he growled in warning. He felt Stiles tense in his arms, and his wolf rumbled in distress. He ran a hand cross Stiles’ cheek, a huff leaving him when the other boy leaned into the touch.

“Of course, now you… decide to make a move.” Stiles slurred, his heart beat slowing.

“Shut up.”

A hand touched his shoulder, small hands, and he turned, meeting Lydia’s scared olive eyes. “We have to move him, now.”

He nodded. His arm muscles strained under Stiles’ weight but he followed after Lydia and Erica as they led him to the Camaro. Boyd slid into the driver seat, Erica claimed the passenger seat and Isaac followed Derek to the back.

Stiles hummed weakly in his arms, and Derek pressed his cheek to his sweaty forehead. “Just stay awake, Stiles.”

“Trying, Der…”

Derek saw the harsh lights of Stiles Jeep following behind them. He felt himself growl and Isaac shifted closer to him in silent comfort.

“Stop.” Stiles grunted, his order was barely heard but Derek’s werewolf hearing picked it up loud and clear.

“Trying.” He shot back.

Stiles huffed, the heated air kissing his neck. Stiles’ shifted his head, fingers brushing against Derek’s forearms, tips pressing in. Derek got the message and tightened his hold on Stiles. A breath fanned his cheeks and just as Derek looked down, soft lips brushed against it. It was a touch, a press of skin, but it send a jolt through him.

His lips parted without thought, ready to return to kiss when he felt Stiles say, “Just in case…”

Derek jerked away, glaring down at Stiles who frowned back confused. “I am not gonna be your last act on this fucking Earth.”

He could sense the apprehension wafting off Erica, Boyd and Isaac. He felt the fear and uncertainty course through Stiles body, revealing itself through an amalgamation of specific scents.

“Kiss me again, later.” Derek practically ordered.

Stiles sunk further into his arms. “Deal.”

*

He thought things would change when they started seeing each other, when they started working toward making a life together.

He thought things would change when they passed the one year mark, and Stiles was still beaming at him as if he was the best thing to ever walk the Earth.

But it didn’t.

Every time someone bad came along, Stiles and Scott was always in the middle of it. And every time they came out the other side alive and breathing, it was always at a price.

Stiles’ spark grew the more his love for his pack grew.

Deaton had informed Stiles of his very fact that day with the Penanggalan, and Derek felt the familiar feeling of dread return tenfold. He saw the way Isaac looked at Scott, the way Erica shifted closer to him.

He understood the depths of that statement, because it wasn’t the pack’s love that increased Stiles’ powers, it was his love for _Scott_.

After that, Derek forced himself to cement a cold hard truth that, come hell or high water, there was _nothing, _but his dad that Stiles would put in front of Scott.

John saw what it was doing to Derek.

“Stiles loves with all his heart. It’s something he got from both his mom and I. It kills me, knowing what I know, how dark and truly dangerous this world is. I know Stiles won’t ever stop fighting.” John said.

Derek said nothing.

“You ever need someone to talk to about anything, you come to me, kid.” He then offered Derek a beer and together they sat in silence as they waited Deaton to finished treating Stiles after another fight, with a Ghoul this time.

He had plans to ask Stiles to marry him, when an Ancient came knocking at their door, threatening to claim Beacon Hills and the power of the Nemeton for itself.

An Ancient was something of an Original. It was the first being of all beings. It was the mother of different creatures, the one who started it all. There wasn’t a single way to kill it, because the way to kill its spawns are different to each species so, they were really doing in blind.

He feared for his life and the lives of his family. He held onto Allison when she came up to hug him moments before they were set to actual fight this thing. He gave John the ring, asking him to hold onto it. He kissed Stiles and told him he loved him, and to be careful.

It was a mess. The entire battle was bloody because the hell-mouth was at stake.

He lost sight of Stiles almost immediately.

It felt like hours.

It was loud and everything smelt like blood and pain.

Chris was seconds away from being impaled by a spike when Derek pushed him out of the way, the piercing tip cutting through his shoulder and arm.

He’d been looking, searching in the chaos, when he felt it. An icy wave washed over him.

Derek heard Allison.

“SCOTT!!!! NO!!!!”

He turned, his eyes zooming in as they forced him to witness Stiles magick Scott away with a force blast when the Ancient attempted to impale the wolf. There was flash of relief which softened Stiles expression, only for it to turn blank a second later. Derek watched as the color drained from Stiles face, turning his health pale into a coldish blue.

Stiles looked down. Derek followed.

His heart broke and his wolf howled.

There, the spike which had been moments from hurting Scott had found home in Stiles, entering him through the stomach and exiting from the back. The Ancient’s gleeful laugh chilled the world around him as it lifted Stiles up, its spike connecting to its being as it drew him close.

Everyone ran toward them.

A burning heat scorched the front of his entire body and Derek was flung back. Something landed on him. He felt it groan.

He pushed it off, legs lifting, feet moving, eyes fixed on Stiles.

Thousands of voices echoes through Beacon Hills as the Ancient spoke, its pale white eyes locked on Stiles. “What are you doing?”

With blood dropping down his chin, Stiles grinned. Amber eyes flashed to Emerald green, hands, bloodied and dirty, gripped the spike that impaled him and soon it too began to glow.

“Stop! No!”

The Ancient appeared to be attempting to break free. The heated wall that separated him from Stiles burned his palms as he pressed against it, wanting, _needing_ to get to Stiles.

“Stiles!” He heard himself scream.

“STOP!” The Ancient’s thousand voices commanded, pain bleeding through.

A burst of light tore through her, escaping her body from random directions. It was golden, and red and blue and green. The Ancient’s head tipped, releasing an earthshattering scream as it was consumed by the light.

The spike glowed too. Then, the land was clear and Stiles as left hovering in the air for a moment before he dropped, crashing to Earth, just as the burning wall vanished.

Derek stumbled to the ground, claws digging into soil and dirt as he scrambled toward Stiles. His fingers reached for the other man, and Stiles’ name broke free from the confines of his closed throat.

“Stiles. Stiles. Wake up, Stiles. Stiles, wake up. STILES! WAKE UP, STILES!”

*

“Derek, drink this.”

He ignored them.

“Honey, I have to check your wounds, Erica said you aren’t healing.”

He looked vacantly at the double doors where they had rushed Stiles through.

John had broken down in Melissa's arms.

Derek listened in on the chaos happening in the other room.

“Derek, can you look at me?” Erica was crouched before him, Lydia beside her and Allison seated beside Derek. He didn’t have the energy to look away from the door. “He’s gonna be okay, Derek. He’ll make it. I prom—“ Lydia’s hand touched her shoulder, cutting her off.

He was thankful, because if Erica had promised him Stiles’ survival in that moment, Derek wasn’t sure what he would have done.

He felt cold and a moment later a blanket was over his shoulders.

He felt alone, the hands holding his and the arms pressed against his was barely registered.

Hours passed. A doctor came out, saying the next hours were critical.

He asked when they could see Stiles: he said not now.

John was hugging Melissa again.

Then, Derek smelt him. His scent seemed to be the only thing that Derek knew and understood. He moved then, growling. Scott jumped, stepping in front of Allison and Derek grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him against the wall. There was gasps all around them, from other people he didn’t even know where there.

“Derek, stop!”

“Derek, let him go.”

Derek got in his face._ “You did this!”_

Tears ran down dirty cheeks and Scott surrendered to the blame. “I know…”

“He was trying to protect you. He is always trying to fucking protect you!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

_ “THAT’S ENOUGH! LET HIM GO, DEREK! NOW!”_

His shirt tore as he fought against those pulling him away from Scott. He felt the faint scent of gunpowder, mint body wash and he went along, letting John pull him away from Scott who sagged down onto the floor, Allison and Isaac dropping to their knees to comfort him.

“Come on, Derek.” John tugged at him. He resisted, eyes desperately flashing toward the general direction of Stiles’ heartbeat. “Not far, just away.”

He moved then, letting Stiles’ dad lead him away from the chaos he’d just caused. They left through double doors and stopped there, the sight of a sobbing Scott and the doors leading to Stiles’ room clear to him.

Derek opened his mouth to apologize but John shook his head. “You have every right to be angry.”

Tears replaced words.

“We knew this day would come. We always knew, right?” John waited for his nod before continuing. “I understand how you feel—‘

“No, you don’t.” Derek moved away from John, vanishing from the pack’s sight. “You don’t know what this is like”

“Then tell me, kid.”

Derek shook his head.

“You keep this bottled up and its going to cause more pain later on, son.”

Bowing his head, Derek inhaled and exhaled, drawing from unknown courage to voice his deepest fears. For years, he’d kept it bottled up, holding back when Stiles went after Scott, when Scott saved Stiles. For years, he watched, knowing his place…

“He’s gonna die for Scott, one day.”

John’s schooled expressed cracked.

“I know it. Em – “ His voice broke. “An Emissary’s love for his wolf is beyond measure. If it came down to it, Stiles will always choose Scott… over, over everything. Even me.” He whispered the last part.

John swallowed. “Derek, Stiles loves you—“

“But not as much as he loves Scott.” He informed John. “It’s not romantic at all, but its love. And, I’ve accepted that he’s love for Scott will always win over his love for me. It’s always been like that.”

John was shaking his head. “Derek…”

“It’s the truth. Ask him.”

There was a tense moment. John couldn’t speak for Stiles and Derek felt bare to the soul. He ducked his head in shame. Feet scuffled and arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace. He hesitated for a moment, before letting go. He didn’t make a sound, but he held on.

*

He didn’t look at Scott.

Scott made no move toward him.

*

When Stiles finally opened his eyes, after Deaton had snuck in to mutter an enchantment that increased Stiles’ chances of survival, Derek was there, leaning over him, eager to see those amber orbs. He smelt Stiles’ stale breath as he exhaled, heard the way his heart leaped in his chest.

John was there, calling to Stiles, greeting him. Stiles looked around him, the confusion morphing into a smile when he caught sight of Scott. He exhaled with relief, lolling his head to the side to look at Derek, his smile softening. A weak limb lifted, bandaged fingers reaching and Derek grasped it, bringing it closer so Stiles could cup his cheek.

A thumb brushed back and forth. “I missed you.” Stiles said weakly.

Derek gave him a wet smile before leaning down to brush his lips against Stiles’ forehead, the tip of his nose, down to his mouth. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Nails scratched his cheek, silently returning the sentiment and the broken pieces of his heart slowly mended.

*

Stiles was released a month later, after a “miraculous recovery”.

They were just settling in for a movie on their couch when Stiles sighed, pausing the movie before it could start. He turned around, leaning against the back of the couch, amber eyes tired from the day but softened with love.

Stiles reached out, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Derek frowned at him, moving to put the bowl of popcorn on the small table before them to turn his whole attention onto Stiles.

Stiles swallowed, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “For what I put you through. For what I made you believe. I am so sorry, Derek.”

An acidic taste formed in his mouth. He moved away from Stiles’ touch. “Who told you?”

Stiles didn’t answer.

“What is Scott or Erica? I know it wasn’t your dad, he would never have told you that.”

“It doesn’t matter who told me. All that matters is that I had to know.”

Derek moved off the couch and Stiles turned to look at him. “I don’t think of you as my last choice.”

“I know you don’t.” Derek said, his back turned to Stiles. His heart was racing, his mind scrambling to find equilibrium. “It’s not a conscious choice, Stiles. It’s instinct, it’s—“

“Bullshit.” Stiles cut in. He heard the leather groan and waited until Stiles placed himself before him, amber eyes sure and determined. He reached for Derek and Derek let him. “It’s fucking bullshit. I love Scott, you know I do. But I don’t think of him as more important than you, Derek.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Stiles. You’re - its not something that is quantifiable. It just is. I know you love me, just like I know that if anything were too happened to Scott, you wouldn’t hesitant to jump between him and it.” He moved to take a step back. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

He waited, watching as Stiles stood there with a confused look on his face. He was lost. Derek would tell.

Because he didn’t get it.

He didn’t understand it.

“I don’t understand, Derek. Help me understand.”

The idea brought anxiety. It felt like a wet blanket, enveloping his lungs, mouth and nose, making it so hard to breathe.

“It’s…” He stuttered out, moving to drop down onto the couch.

Stiles followed, hand reaching, intertwining their fingers.

“It’s as if…” The words felt heavy in his mouth, but Derek forced them out anyway. “You don’t think about me if anything were to happen. You don’t think about the life we’d built. Or the life we still have to live.” He swallowed down the burning lump in his throat. “And I get it, it’s okay—“

“It’s not okay.” Stiles’ thick voice broke through his foggy mind, cutting him off. “It’s, fuck, it’s far from fucking okay.” The hand holding his tightened. “I’m so fucking sorry, Derek. I’m sorry for all the shit I have put you through.

Stiles stopped and swallowed.

Derek turned to look at him, waiting.

“I can’t promise that I won’t do everything in my power to protect, Scott. But I can promise you this,” Determined eyes bore into his. “From this day onward, I will never not think about you and what I am risking with my actions. Okay, you and me will always be a conscious reminder in my thoughts, every single day. I’ll never walk into a fight, I’ll never act without you in my mind. And if or when, something does happened, I will do everything in my power to get back to you.” He blinked back tears. “Okay?”

Derek exhaled shakily, nodding as he leaned in. Stiles met him half away, sealing the promise with a kiss so sweet yet hard. He sunk his fingers into Derek’s hair, gripping it and Derek ears latched onto the steady beating of Stiles heart, which never one faltered as he made his promise.

*

It wasn’t easy.

The fear didn’t go away.

It took time, years even. It took the birth of their son, Chance, to solidify the certainty that he wasn’t an afterthought.

**Author's Note:**

> Kodaline - Brother inspired.


End file.
